


Rewriting the deaths of les Amis III

by akanemi



Series: Rewriting the deaths of les Amis [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:31:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akanemi/pseuds/akanemi





	Rewriting the deaths of les Amis III

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Perrypoola](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perrypoola/gifts).



Behind the wrecked windows of the Musain, or the misery that remains of it, a young man observes with eyes full of with terror the action taking place in the barricade.

There’s blood in his cheek, and the worst part of it is that he can’t remember whose blood it is. His shirt is thorn and his trousers covered in mud.

He pants and saws his teeth so he can hide how badly he is shaking. He holds the musket in his hand, as if it were his last hope, as if it were worth everything. But he has no bullets left.

Before his eyes, two corpses lie.

He remembers her smile, her sweet, warm calmness, her soft eloquence, the ablazing passion in her eyes.

He remembers how she kissed his forehead, the smell of the roses every morning in that same street, there, where now stands the barricade. Where he used to sweep with a smile upon his face.

He remembers him too.

His resolution, his endless gentleness, his capacity to remain peaceful in the worse situations.

His shouts in front of the group. His figure standing firm among the soldiers, surrounded by the chaos, as he used to stand in the meetings, before his maps.

And there they lie, his lips in her forehead, his hands tangled in her hair, hers in her belly. Never more.

Mere shadows. An illusion.

He gulps with difficulty. He knows he will not be the last to go, some remain but not for long.

He holds the gun with desperation, like a child holds their parents’. He is young and he is afraid.

He feels in his heart, in the depth of his soul, that he has not lived. That he has not seen anything of the world, lost in dim promises of better tomorrow, he forgot to turn his eyes and see the present.

And then he decides to take a step further. If he is going to go, he will go seeing the light.

So he walks and leaves behind the Musain, walks among the remains of his friends, walks and climbs the barricade, climbs until he cannot climb anymore.

He raises his head to the sun, the warm light caresses his face. He closes his eyes and gives a last smile.

As he lets the gun fall, five bullets pierce his chest.

And he is not anymore. 


End file.
